Lord, lately my opportunities to contribute seem few and far between. Please tell me: How may I serve you?

This is a question I've asked of Jesus many times in recent years, even as I've consoled myself with St. Paul's words in 1 Corinthians 12:5: “There are different forms of service but the same Lord.”

You see, because of a physical disability, I need to rely on others to be my arms, legs and main means of transportation. I must consider logistics before I dive into any new project. Sometimes the spirit is willing but the flesh is unable. These are the times I wonder if I really belong anymore. I am tempted to despair. This is only intensified if the voice of discouragement is seconded by a real voice speaking real words. At those times, I can only hope God will intervene. The good news is, he always does (though not always on my timetable). Here's an example.

One Saturday evening not long ago, I entered our parish church for the vigil Mass. As I parked my wheelchair at the end of a pew, a woman commented, “Bill, you don't belong on this side of the church.” Her words stung, but, rather than arguing, I remained silent and prepared to move to the other side of the church. I bowed my head and asked Jesus: “Christ, allow me to forgive her. Please restore my peace.”

Moments later, some friends of mine who had heard the comment said, “Stay with us. We are taking up the offertory. You can help.”

I exclaimed, “Oh, thank you!” and followed them to the pew designated for the family bringing up the gifts of bread, wine and water. As I settled in, I thought about how beautiful it is that, at every Mass, God transforms these simple substances from the good earth and the work of human hands into the Body and Blood of his son, Jesus Christ.

When the time came to bring the gifts to the priest at the altar, it dawned on me what a privilege it is to play such a crucial role at Mass. It is a gift to deliver the gifts!

My hands shook as I bore the cruets that contain the water and wine. I wept as I was wheeled up to present them.

After Mass, I recalled how God had turned a fleeting moment of dejection into a rich blessing, the memory of which will last me a lifetime. He called on this generous family to reassure me, by their words and actions, that I did indeed belong.

Looking back now, it also occurs to me how fitting it all was. For, years earlier, I had taught the Catholic faith to their three children in separate years. This was during a 10-year period in which I taught religious education at the parish.

It doesn't seem so long ago. Each week I would start class with a sneak peek at the upcoming Sunday's Gospel. I often incorporated my skills as a writer. This was never more rewarding than in November, when I would read aloud my essays on various saints and holy role models. Often the theme was the various roles we perform in the Body of Christ. In this way I hoped to assure the children that they all belonged. They all have a role to play in the Body of Christ.

And so do I — even now, even in those times when I feel discouraged because I'm not always able to serve Jesus in a highly visible way. No matter what else I can do, as long as I have breath, I can pray. I can praise God. I can encourage others to do their part, whatever it may be.

I belong. Thank God, we all belong!

Bill Zalot writes from Levittown, Pennsylvania.